


Just for an Hour

by flintwolf



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintwolf/pseuds/flintwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica heads over to the 7/11 to get away from everything for a while, and ends up going to a bar with JD (who happens to be performing at said bar that night...) Off canon in some ways. JD's not psychotic, so he may be slightly OOC because of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just for an Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo everyone :) I'd like to thank you in advance for reading. I don't write often, but i had this idea and figured the fandom could use more stories, so, here we are. Any errors/comments, please don't hesitate to message me (preferably @ abeautifulfrickinday.tumblr.com). Enjoy!

I am beyond pissed off.

It's not like I shouldn't be used to this type of thing by now. I mean, I sort of knew what I was getting into when I'd agreed to "date" Kurt Kelly. And by "date," I mean letting him call me his girlfriend (even though I'm sure he screws other girls from time to time) and hooking up whenever the boys downstairs get lonely. Don't get me wrong, the sex isn't terrible (when he's sober enough to actually perform without up chucking all over me), and the label of "Kurt's girl" keeps the creeps away, but sometimes I wish for... I don't know, more.

And that's how I find myself in the parking lot of the 7/11, alone, on a Saturday night. He'd just gotten a little too handsy at Heather McNamara's homecoming party. My annoyance may also have to do with his public declaration of my mouth's ability to maneuver his "man sword," but it's not the worst comment he's made about me. Usually I'd just shrug it off, but tonight, I just need a little time away from all that.

So I decide to hide out here for a bit, an hour, tops, before heading back and playing my part as one of the Heathers in the teenage society food chain. I also have been having terrible cravings for Barbecue Corn Nuts (damn Heather Chandler for that).

The little bell above the door rings as I walk in, causing the only other person on the store, a cashier, to glance up at me quickly before returning to her perusal of a magazine. I head over to a snacks aisle intending to take my time memorizing where each food is located (I am that desperate to waste time), when someone in a black trenchcoat appears from the drinks station with a blue slurpee.

"Greetings and salutations," he says to me confidently before taking a sip.

Who the fuck says that? I wonder. I just kind of stare at him for a second before realization hits me. "That thing you pulled in the caf last week was pretty severe," I say raising my eyebrows.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. "Uh, yeah, that was me. Sorry about that..."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It was awesome. It's about damn time somebody stood up to those guys."

The mystery-guy looks somewhat surprised at this. "Oh, I just meant because you're kind of dating Kurt and-"

"Ugh stop right there," I groan. "I'm trying to get away from all that for a while."

Now it's his turn to raise his eyebrows. His look shifts from inquisitive to understanding as he shrugs and turns back around, heading towards the slurpee machines. "I get that. Care for a slurpee?"

"No, but if you're nice, I'll let you buy me a Big Gulp." There's no problem with a little harmless flirting, right? I'm off the clock now, after all.

He let's out a disapproving tsk tsk and quips "Wow. Bad taste in guys and refreshments."

I clutch my chest and let out a mock gasp at the remark, but he seems to get that I agree with the statement (at least on the first part). "I'm Veronica-"

"Well of course. Everyone knows who you are. You're with the Heathers."

"Right," I mutter. "So... Are you ever going to tell me your name...?"

"Why, Veronica Sawyer, that would ruin the suspense." He reaches out a hand, which I shake. "Jason Dean. JD for short."

"JD." The name rolls easily off my tongue. "So what's a badass like you doing at a 7/11 in Sherwood, Ohio?"

"Oh, you know. My dad's work. We move around a lot. Don't see much of a point in making friends and going to parties. So here I am. Drowning my sorrows and loneliness in slush." He smiles to let me know he's joking, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes, and I feel and for the kid.

It crosses my mind to take JD back to the party with me, but I think better of it. "Well, I'm not one for the slush, but we could rent a movie, or something. I'd be down with a few hours of mindless entertainment and popcorn." Something within me warns against it, but I can't help but want to get to know this guy, this JD, more. I quickly push my heebie jeebies away. "If you want."

He slurps on his drink and considers my offer, breaking off an impressively long sip and slapping his palm to hit forehead with an "ow." I tilt my head at that. "Brain freeze," he supplies in answer to my unspoken question. 

He repeats the actions and I shake my head at him, asking "Why do you keep doing that if you know you're only going to hurt again?"

JD smiles wryly at me, shooting back "Why do you put up with Kurt knowing he's not worth your time?"

I sigh. Back on this, again. "Because, as Veronica of the Heathers, I am expected to be the perfect lady toy to any popular football-playing douche. Comes with the territory of being popular." I shrug. 

"You shouldn't have to "be" anything for anyone," he says quietly.

There's a somewhat awkward silence as I contemplate (and by that I mean not really considering) this statement and chew on a twizzler. JD shifts his weight from one foot to the other and scratches behind his ear (a nervous tick that is most certainly NOT completely adorable). "Well, you know, if you wanted something to do, I'm actually on my way to an open mike thing down at Oasis. It's usually just a bunch of drunks home for college break and Redington kids who think they can sing, but I know of a group that's not completely terrible. They're on at 9:30, so if we head out now, we can make it in time. If you want, I mean. No obligation I just thought-"

"I'd love to," I cut off his anxious rambling with a smile, as endearing as his obvious discomfort is.

He lets out what could be a sigh of relief and the smirk slides back into place. He finishes the final sip of his slurpee, tosses the cup, and offers me his arm with a wink and a mock bow. Rolling my eyes, I take it and walk out of the store with him.

The bar's only about a 10 minute walk, and we pass the time with easy conversation about how ridiculously provocative the new cheer for pep rallies is. Heather M, head cheerleader, made it up, of course, so I never get the chance to laugh about it with anyone else. It's refreshing to be able to talk to someone outside of Martha and the restricted "popular" group.

When we arrive, there are two guys setting up speakers, microphones, and a keyboard on stage. One catches sight of JD, and waves him over. He lifts a hand into the air in acknowledgment and turns to me. "When I said the group's not completely terrible..."

Realization dawns on me. Oh. He's the group. JD's in a band. Totally did not see that coming. I mean, sure, he's got the hair for it and the leather and I'd listen to him read the grocery receipts with his voice but- Veronica, say something, he's waiting. "Nyahaha," I laugh. Anything but that. "Uh um. Well. I'll just... Be over here..." I gesture to an empty seat at the bar. "While you... Um... Do that." Smooth, Sawyer.

JD seems to find my stuttering entertaining, because he barks out a short laugh and tells me to just relax and regret not taking him up on the Slurpee, "because all you're gonna get here is watered down Coke."

"Whatever, loser. I'd say break a leg, but you promised to walk me home, so."

JD shoots me a goofy grin ("Anything for you, of course") over his shoulder and hops up onto the small stage. As I'm sitting down, he turns to face the people who have begun quieting down in preparation for the performance, taking his place behind the microphone stand. He introduces himself and the guys on keyboard (Ryan) and guitar (Dan), and from the enthusiastic reaction of the crowd, they've performed here once or twice before. Once the cheers settle, he introduces the first song, and the keyboardist begins to play a warm melody as JD's voice floats through the mike.

"Hey, you,  
With the lonely eyes,  
Say who might you be?  
And would you fight for me?"

Hold on. Is he staring at me? I glance behind me, but then realize there's nothing there except for the beer and liquor bottles behind the bar.

"And hey,  
Would you face the crowd,  
Could you be seen with me  
And still act proud?"

Ok. He is most definitely looking at me. Don't panic. It's just a song. But god, his voice makes me feel like melting.

"It's fine  
If you don't agree,  
But I would fight for you..."

He smiles at me when I turn me head and look downwards. This kind of attention is foreign to me, but not entirely unwelcome. It's... Sweet, in a way.

The group on stage performs a few more songs before addressing the crowd again, thanking them for their attention and wishing everyone a good night. JD stays on stage for a few minutes to help pack up the band'a gear, then joins me at the bar. "So...?"

I try my best to look as unimpressed as possible. "You were alright, I guess."

He shoots me an overdramatic wounded look before signaling to a waitress and putting in an order of chili fries.

As we munch in the fries, I ask JD about his music and how he manages to continue singing when he moves so often. He explains that, sometimes, he can't find a group, but got lucky here. Turns out Ryan and Dan put out an add looking for a vocalist, and allowed him to bring his own pieces to play during gigs. I ask about the first song and why he kept staring at me. No sense beating around the bush.

He fixes me with a heated gaze (woah) before responding. "Because I would. Fight for you. If you wanted." He turns away and digs a couple dollars from his pocket, tossing them on the bartop next to the now-empty plate.

I'm too stunned to do anything but stare for a moment as he gets up and heads towards the door, jacket trailing like a cape behind him. I shake my head to clear my thoughts of "what what whAT" and rise to follow him, catching sight of him a several yards away in the direction we came from. "Hey!" I call out. "You can't just say something like that and then walk away, excuse me."

JD stops walking and I catch up with him in a moment. I'm about to say something else when he grabs the edges of my blazer and pulls me to him. Our lips touch and all I can think is "oh god, what ELSE can he do with this mouth?" His kiss is fierce, yet gentle, giving me a chance to pull away and end it. I don't, of course, because GOD can he kiss. It's over much to quickly, and he steps back to give me some space before gracing me with that smirk, again.

Part of me is angry. "How could you just assume I'd be ok with this?"

His smirk grows as he responds, "if you weren't, you wouldn't have followed me."

Oh. Well, ok. fair enough, I suppose.

There's a beat of silence, and I reach my fingers up to my lips, still in awe (and confusion) of what just happened.

His eyes follow my hand and the look on his face is just so fucking smug. But I guess he has a right to be pleased with himself, because damn.

I shuffle my feet a little, unsure of how best to proceed. "So, uh. Is your offer still open?"

He's still grinning as he takes my hand and starts walking back in the direction we came. "Let's go rent that movie."

We spend the rest of the night watching Back to the Future. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up in a bed that's not mine surrounded by blankets that smell like leather and cherry slurpee.

So much for an hour.


End file.
